Melissa
by Morgan Fey
Summary: Unbeta'd, Javert/OC A new look at Javert's suicide and why he did it. Well it may not be so new.... and now it is official, I suck at summeries.


Disclaimer: If I owned Javert do you think he would be jumping off bridges? Well...probably. But he would NOT be dying. XD Les Mis belongs to Victor Hugo and whatever large company that is now holding the copyright and doing productions with it.

It was Melissa he thought of before he took that heart rending jump. Melissa with her peaches and cream skin and her straw colored hair like a halo. Valjean was present in his mind certainly, and the thought of what would be said of him back at the station. Melissa may cry if she ever found out, he thought. But the likelihood that Melissa would find out was low, and the likelihood of her crying was even less. Melissa had Andre after all. Andre, who had married Melissa and took his place be her side. Andre, who had taken the place the Javert himself had wanted. He shook his head. Melissa had made her choice. Who, after all, would want a man who was tainted with the smell of jails and criminals? Not Melissa.

Javert had been born in a prison and not a day after his birth, his mother hanged. No one had claimed to be his father, and so no one knew. Lord, beggar or tradesmen, anyone could have sired Javert. Javert's mother, Marie, had been a maid before her descent into the underworld. Leaving her position in a fancy house is a well known district for the family jewels. The jewels brought in a months worth of money and no more. No one wanted jewels that looked as though they could have been stolen and so their price dropped dramatically. Marie was beggared and so she began to try and steal. She was caught and scheduled to hang for she had been found with loot from other jobs and been labeled as 'unreformed criminal', a label which no one could escape. In any case, Javert was a bastard born in prison and Marie was a criminal who died by the hangman's noose.

Javert had met Melissa when he was in his mid twenties. Melissa was just off the boat from England and she had lost her reticule and so Javert was sent for. Javert had just become an inspector and had wanted more serious jobs than chasing ladies reticules, but he had no choice. The senior officers held authority and the junior officers pandered to them and took the light jobs that no one wanted. Melissa had look at the young and self important Javert with her blue eyes and asked for his help. Javert was lost. Within thirty minutes Melissa was in possession of her silk reticule and a beaming Javert helped her locate her trunk and get in the carriage awaiting her. Melissa was an orphan who was now a ward of a Marquis. The Marquis had a small estate and a reasonably sized town house in Paris and was only set to take care of Melissa until her marriage, which considering her age did not look to far off. Javert soon found himself manning the watch that passed by the front of Melissa's new home. The watch passed by every thirty minutes to an hour and Javert took his duties very seriously, and so every thirty minutes to an hour he would pass by. Every few days he would see her and every few weeks she would see him and nod. And so timed passed, and political tension mounted and the economy began to change even further than it had before. People were multiplying and jobs were becoming scare. Poor houses began to fill up and jails began to overflow. Galley slaves and hangings became routine and there were whispers of malcontent in the street. All Javert cared about, besides his job of course, was that now Melissa was reading in her window everyday.

When the Marquis's house was broken into Javert was given the first important job in his career. Find the person who stole the silver and jewels of the Marquis. Melissa was pale the first time Javert saw her while on the job. The Marquis was a tall and thin man with small blue eyes and a high and lined forehead. The Marquis wanted the thief immediately found and hanged for his presumption. Javert assured him of satisfaction and the Marquis nodded imperiously and went away. Melissa told Javert that he could expect complete compliance within the household, Javert bowed over her hand. Melissa introduced him to all of the servants and Javert began his questioning in his precise manner. Melissa watched from the sidelines as the thirty year old man began to methodically check every corner of the house for the culprit. After questioning half the household Javert withdrew for the evening after kissing Melissa's hand and stating his intentions to start again tomorrow. The next day went along, much the same as the day before, except that Javert was invited to sit for refreshments around lunchtime. Javert accepted and so he and Melissa began their true acquaintance. The Marquis began to grow impatient after a week, and Javert wished that the time he spent with Melissa would not end when he managed to locate the missing items. As two weeks turned into three the Marquis started to threaten to bring in a higher officer of the law "to get the deed done and the perpetrator apprehended". Within days Javert had found Mr. Grenville. Grenville was a small time merchant who lived down the street and so was overlooked. Grenville was in possession of half of the silver and a quarter of the jewels stolen, with receipts for the unaccounted for possessions as well as items that were reported missing for the last month. Javert had found this criminal and was promoted by the end of the year. Things were just settling down when Andre came.

Two weeks and Andre was affianced to Melissa. Javert had tried to call on Melissa toward the end of the two week and when he presented his case he was summarily ejected from the room, house and ultimately Melissa's presence. Cast out based on his status as a mere inspector of the police Javert had no hope to see Melissa again. His friend was gone and his infatuation had been brought to an abrupt halt. And then he met Valjean, and he found a reason to continue. Throwing himself into work Javert tried to forget, and failed.

Javert was jolted back into reality by stumbling over a stone. For years Javert had hunted Valjean and now he was at this impasse. Years had passed and yet he still saw Melissa as she walked the streets of Paris on the arm of Andre. Valjean had eluded him for years and talk at headquarters was that Javert was incompetent. Javert had found himself prisoner of the insurgents and he was released because of Valjean, a man he hunted and held in contempt. His life was given to him by the one he had so assiduously hunted, a man he had thought of as heartless, sly and evil. Valjean suddenly was human and Javert's actions became cast in a different light. Duty became pride and self respect became self importance. Melissa would never be his and now Javert could never have Valjean in prison without having whatever was left of his heart cry out in rebellion. Coldly the wind of the Seine blew against his skin. Looking at the water Javert felt himself tense. Black in the shimmering light of the lampposts the water glittered. What is there left? He thought of the cold bed in the small apartment, he called home. Thick books that he had yet to read or was halfway through, books about law and justice, crime and death. Socks with holes at the heel and jackets that were getting worn through. Paychecks that were getting smaller and the whispers at the station. The officious and pompous men who ran the station that he worked at and the candlelight that flickered against the walls as he stayed at headquarters when everyone else was gone. What feeling that life could ever render him was worth this agony? Stray cats in the street that he walked to work on, starving children that had learned to never beg him for money. Catching adolescents who looked defiantly into his eyes as he threw them into prison. Crones whose gnarled fingers tried to murder for the spare change in a strangers pockets. Whores whose ribs were beginning to show and who were plying there trade without a license. Melissa. Andre. Valjean. Himself. Thoughts flew threw his head like triangles of light and he looked at the dirty water of the river. Dirty water by daylight and by night a mystical river that held answers. He jumped. A heart rending cry filled the air. A splash was heard. Rats paused in the alleyways and the men continued on their business, not even bothering to notice the now nightly occurrence. Javert had died.

A/N: Well this is a tad depressing but... Yay! My first fanfic! Please tell me what you think, I love even flames. It means that someone read it and that makes me a happy author.


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